Better Off Dead
by DixieH
Summary: This is set directly after Frame. Bobby contemplates his past and makes a difficult choice about the future. By the title you will know that this deals with mature and very dark subject matter.


_This is set directly after Frame. Bobby contemplates his past and makes a difficult choice about the future. By the title you will know that this deals with mature and very dark subject matter. I've tried to keep this honest, so feel free to quit reading now. It won't be for everyone or maybe it's for no one ... except me. _

_I don't own LOCI or it's characters. This is a not for profit exercise. No copywrite infringement is intended or implied._

_Dix_

**_Better Off Dead_**

He sat at the kitchen table in the gathering darkness of his apartment. He'd opened the door with the key, but hadn't bothered to lock it behind him. He hadn't switched on a light, untied his shoes, slipped out of his suit jacket or loosened his tie. He'd only pulled out a kitchen chair and dropped into it. He sat for a long time looking at nothing in particular, thinking nothing in particular. There was a clock ticking in the kitchen. It measured minutes he no longer cared about. His big hands rested palms down on the cool arbourite surface of the table.

Finally, he reached into the holster under his arm and removed the Glock. It fit easily into his hand. He'd fired countless practice rounds in his career. He'd drawn the gun and pointed it in every sort of high risk encounter, but rarely had cause to fire it on the job. He'd seen the devastating effect of a single bullet. He'd seen countless bodies stilled from such a collision. He'd seen and studied blood and brain matter pooled and splattered. He laid the gun on the table and thought about the dead.

His mother was dead.

Her husband was dead.

Her son was dead

Her lover was dead.

A wave of sorrow rolled over him again. His mother had been gone a year and now Frank was gone too. He was abandoned first by the father he loved and then by a mother plagued by a disease beyond her control. And now he was orphaned again by her death and by Frank's. The weight of self-pity dragged at his heart. Son of a serial killer, mentored by a man who loved serial killers so much, his daughter became one, to capture his attention. He was surrounded by so much suffering and so much death. He felt responsible. He put his head in his hands and his shoulders shook as the grief poured out.

Long minutes later, when he was calm again, he wondered when he'd had a choice. If he'd chosen not to work with Declan Gage in Korea, Frank would still be alive. If he'd chosen not to become a police officer, Jo Gage would not have killed and kidnapped. Eames would not have been taken. All the choices he'd made and all of them wrong. But the army and the police department had ordered his life and given him a discipline and a morality that saved him from his unspeakable childhood. Jo Gage had said a true thing when she'd said he could have gone either way. Long ago, there had been choices to make and he made them.

And now the gun was on the table, and then it was weighty and smooth in his hand, and then it was cold against his temple. This was another choice. He thought about adding his name to the list. He thought he'd be better off dead. He tried the words aloud. "Better off dead." They echoed in the apartment and came back to him.

He thought about Ross. This choice wouldn't surprise Ross. Ross thought he was a killer. Ross would be right. He thought about Rogers. Or rather, he thought about his body on a cold metal gurney in the morgue. He'd be her problem for a time and he thought it fitting after her betrayal.

His finger lay against the trigger. He thought about squeezing it. He thought about the final choice that would bring the hammer to bear against the bullet and add his name to the list of the dead. He wondered who would notice his absence. He wondered who would turn the door knob and discover his body. There was only one name on the list.

Eames

Eames

Eames

Her name rang in his ears and deafened him.

She had made choices too. Early on, she chose to be his partner and later she chose countless times to defend him and cover for him and lie for him. She chose to trust him when he wasn't worthy of trust. She chose to defend him when he'd done the indefensible. She put her career on the line. She put herself on the line. He thought a long time about Eames until the weight of the Glock dragged at his arm. His wrist sagged until the gun rested on the table.

He could not join the dead with out killing some part of her too. If he took his own life, he would make all the sacrifices she had made meaningless. He could not make another choice which hurt her. He would not repay her concern or her compassion with a bullet. She'd question her own judgement if he pulled the trigger and he would not hurt her in this way. Regretfully he let the gun go and stood up.

He stood by the window a while and watched the pedestrians under the streetlights and the cars on the road. These were people with destination and purpose. He still felt a gaping emptiness but now it would not over whelm him. He would grieve. He would work and he would live. He would live with the past, but not in it. It was a choice and he had made it. He was not better off dead.

Fin

_PSA: No one is better off dead. If you think you might be - talk to someone and LISTEN to what they say._

_Well what do you think? Should I have pressed the delete key on this one? Should I take it down? - Dix_


End file.
